


Bijoux Sonores

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Community: blindfold_spn, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Jewelry, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>She'll be bare for him, bare except for the strand of pale pearls she fastens around her throat.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bijoux Sonores

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** none
> 
> **Disclaimer**: All your intellectual property is not belong to me.
> 
> **Author's note:** For the prompt "Sam/Jess, pearl necklace" at blindfold_spn. I strongly suspect that this was not what the prompter had in mind.

She pulls her hair up, a loose knot so that he knows it's meant for his hands to unbind it. She'll be bare for him, bare except for the golden panties that cling to her hips and the strand of pale pearls she fastens around her throat. It's a simple strand, her graduation present, and she grins, certain that no one intended them for this use. They fall delicately over her collarbones, and she glances at herself in the mirror. She could find those heels she bought at Aldo with Becky, but that's a little too ridiculous. Besides, this is enough. She lights the candles on the bedside tables and on the windowsill, then turns off the lamps.

She hears the shower stop running, and she fluffs the pillow and then arranges herself on the bed, one hand at her belly, the other on her breast, pausing, waiting, but not very patiently.

He's naked and drying his hair as he walks into the bedroom. "Baby, why's it so dark— Oh."

"Happy birthday, Sam," she says, and stretches one arm above her head.

He drops the towel on the floor, and for once she doesn't tell him to pick it up, because what she wants right now are his eyes on her, both loving and greedy, and then, soon, she wants his hands and his mouth. She pulls herself up just as he sits down on the bed, and she drapes her legs over his thighs, pressing close so that he knows what's waiting for him behind just a few layers of thin fabric. She skims her hands up his sides, where a few droplets of water remain; she licks them from his chest, detouring to run her tongue across his nipple. He catches her head just as she's raising it, big hands cupping her face, then one sliding back to run through her hair. It snags on the bun, and she can't help smiling as he pulls the sticks out, _one, two,_ and her hair cascades down her back.

"What?" he says, and there's a smile in his voice, too.

"I put it up just so you would do that."

"You're a tricksy woman," he tells her, and pushes her onto her back.

She goes languorously, stretching her arms above her head. His hands find her breasts, and she sees his eyes go to the jewelry. _I wore it for you,_ she wants to say, but she settles for trusting that he'll understand that. She arches up into his touch. She nudges him with her legs, urging him on top of her, and his body is heavy, warm, and still slick from his shower. He kisses his way down her belly, then pauses at the scrap of gold that's the only thing covering her. He mouths her through it, and she hums, pleased; then he pulls it down and off and returns—but to suck gently at the insides of her thighs. Her fingers find his hair, but he just says, "Impatient," with a maddening little smile, and kisses her pubis, her outer lips, the creases between her thighs and hips, basically everywhere except her clit.

She moans out loud when his tongue finally drags over it.

He loves going down on her, always has. He licks and sucks at her, tongue moving from its caress of her clit to explore her cunt, dipping inside, tasting her where she's wet. She convulses around the fingers he slides inside her, two and then a third—not an orgasm, not yet, but she's close. He sets a rhythm with his fingers and matches it with his tongue, back and forth on her clit until she's shuddering around him, hands in fists in his hair, head thrown back, choking out his name.

When she has her breath back, she kisses herself off his lips.

He fucks her on her back, legs over his shoulders, sucking hard kisses onto her throat and then taking the pearls in his mouth, rolling them on his tongue before leaning up to share it with her, the slippery, earthy taste.

**Author's Note:**

> **A note on the title:** It's from "[Les Bijoux / The Jewels](http://fleursdumal.org/poem/119)," by Charles Baudelaire (link contains both English and French versions). Like most of his poetry, it doesn't exactly translate: The best I could do was _She wore only her resonant jewels._ (Try translating Baudelaire and see how far _you_ get.) And, also like most of his poetry, it has fantastic imagery, and is incredibly creepy and weird.


End file.
